One day at a book club meeting in prison, Alex looked around at everyone in the room. Five outsiders and seven inmates crowded the tiny room. “I’m not going to make it on the outside,” he said. “I never do.”

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Alex was a ‘gentle’ man, a man who helped others, a man who would walk around the track on his hands to avoid a fight.

“You know, guys, I get out and I don’t know what to do. I can never find a good job, so I sleep all day in the halfway house, but they kick me out after three months because I wasn’t bad enough, I guess.”

I wondered if there was a Mrs. Alex and junior Alex people, but I didn’t ask.

“So after awhile, I miss prison and the routine, so I rob some store or other where I don’t hurt people. Since I’m still on parole they send me back here at least for six months or so.”

The inmates in the group tried to help him. They told him which halfway house would really help him and which ones were like outlet stores for the drug trade. One guy suggested a hobby, another said move to different area, a third gave him the name of contractor who hired ex-cons as laborers.

Institutionalization happening right in front of me. This prison system is sick, I thought.